i think i´m falling in love with xela

i think i´m felling in love with xela (it happened last week).
after just one day i was all into this fine guatemalan city...it´s native and mountainous around the edges, plain central american chaos throughout the thick outer core, with a creamy european filling in the center. everywhere you look there´s something beautiful or interesting...and not so touristy either. the lighting in this city looks like it was laid out by a hollywood lighting designer. women roam the streets in beautiful skirts and colorful clothes, looking more beautiful than ...
there are alot of foreigners here, but they´re all studying spanish, so the locals know they ain´t looking to spend a ton of money. it´s real, if not slightly upscale, guatemala.

around mexico in a month

um, chiapas.
san cristobal is quaint by all accounts, including mine...


this guy´s got some serious junk in his trunk. like, mega-muffins.


mega-muffins and this world-class skater all reside in tuxtla-guiterrez, or t-gootz, as i would call it if i lived there. this sweet young punk is ripping it up outside the bigcity theatre, which i didn´t not even for a moment enter.


the highlight of my passing through of t-gootz was the parque de la marimba. (not shown). every night all the dancers of the town gather for some classically mexcian marimba music played by nine old guys in starched white shirts. not coincidentally, all of the dancers of the town are over sixty years in age. they show up every afternoon at six to do the slow motion boogie with their wives and husbands, and their friends husbands and wives, for three solid hours til the sun goes down or the old guys stop playing, whichever comes second. dancing the marimba appears rather similar to dancing a waltz, or perhaps a mellow tango. the park is packed with the oldies dancing, the kids playing and pleading with their parents to buy them balloons, and the middle aged teenagers watching from the back row, dreaming of a day when they will be old enough that dancing the marimba will not be considered uncool. and the best part is that it ain´t a tourist event. i swear they´re not putting on a show for anyone. nonetheless, it´s a hell of a show. the spry old dudes lead their ladies with funk, flavor, crazy individual styles and well-practiced ease. the women gracefully and effortlessly match step for step, bumping the attractiveness of the dance up to at least eleven. i loved the parque de la marimba. watch out for some low-impact marimba music to be creeping it´s way into my next dj set.

after dancing, head over to get some street corn, with mayonaisse, of course.


the chiapas beach is unpopulated, unless you count garbage and baby turtles.

a nice round month in mexico.

dos poemas de san cristobal

Authentic Sombrero Sahuayo
why do you torture me so?
you are so wonderful for blocking the suns rays
couldn´t you just leave it at that?

must you carry in your tightly sewn straw weave
a thousand and one possibilities for me to be judged?

maybe i´ll be judged a poser wanna-be mexican
or a tall goofy psuedo rockstar,
a localler than thou mochilero viajero
or a gangly assortment of no-style,
a trying to be cool californian
or a clueless exploitative gringo -
maybe i`d be judged a cool traveller.

i don´t want this hat to mean anything
i don´t even want to be cool.

but as soon as it touches my shiny peachfuzz head
the judgements come rolling into my cabeza
the hat sucks them from somewhere within my own
paranoid image conscious skeleton

it was designed to aid in the harvesting of corn
but atop this two meter walking beanpole
it only harvests unwanted attention

Oh Authentic Mexican Sahuayo Sombrero
you make me wander the streets like a sunday drunk
up one avenue and down the other
rubberbanding closer and farther from the sombreria where i bought you
from your grumpy foster parent shopowner

certainly there are more important things to worry about
or better yet - nothing at all.
please, whether upon my head or my bedpost
let me enjoy the fragrance of this day, and feel the feelings i felt before my fingers discovered your fine mexican contours.

*********

i can barely see, above the high duotone walls
green rounded mountains drawing a curvy line
accross the cloudy sky

rotting tile roofs sit quietly breathing the morning.
the low wet clouds have cleared around the city
more than they have in my head

twenty five day palenque time warp detour
nipping at the heels of my
trying-to-be empty mind

aqui estoy. san cristobal. mexico.
surrounded by more than
internet cafes
amber jewelry shops
plazas de artesania
opportunities to buy buy buy

"compra este, compralo, para mi...compra este"
in the sweetest pleading leading voice

i want to invite her to tea
sit down and tell me about your life
but ours is a business relationship

my clean gringo getup, to her
a day or week´s worth of food for the family
her wrinkled earthen beauty, to me
an idealistic native novelty

maybe if i touched her hand
looked into her eyes
and spoke my heart

you are beautiful
i want you and your family to live, and be happy
i want to know you, and pray for your health
we don`t understand each other

that last taxi that sped by looked like a rally car